Various Lies

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

No matter how much I beg. No matter how much I plead. No matter the screams you might hear!

The greatest movie ever made!

Do not open this door, or you will ruin all my hard work!

Yes, Dear Reader, we're going for another attempt at stopping smoking. Not quitting; no one wants to be a quitter. So, I'm just...stopping.

Those of you who've followed my Meanderings over the last year or so will remember I last tried to stop in August 2010, and I wrote about it over at LabSpaces. I think I stayed clean for a month or so before slipping back into old habits. A ciggie here, a ciggie there, all OK cos it was just a trip to the bar with mates. Nothing bad. I wasn't really smoking again, seriously!

And then eventually buying a pack because I felt bad about stealing off my friends (a habit I despise in others' and which I will not tolerate in myself). Of course rarely can I smoke an entire pack in one evening, no matter how late I stay up, so there's a few cigarettes left in the morning. Just one to help me get the day started. Just to take the edge off the craving and the hangover.

And then, well I might as well just keep this half pack in my pocket, seeing as it'd be a shame to leave it laying around at home where the cats might eat it (a drug addict's internal logic is a wonderful thing).

Then a bad day at work, exacerbated by writing our CTSA grant with little to no guidance. High stress, pack in my pocket, just one smoke...

An endless litany of excuses and weakness. My dad once said I had the willpower of a hobby horse and I fear he's right (he quit cold turkey in 1979). However, as Cervantes said, "Faint heart ne'er won fair maid". And thus, here we go with another attempt.

I want to stop. I really want to stop.

I hate smelling of smoke
I hate being broke because I spend upwards of $200/month on smokes
I hate having to plan social events around smoke breaks
I hate being breathless
I hate being a demographic that dies young
I hate being an addict

Wish me luck Dear Reader. Feel free to leave messages of support and admonishment. Feel free to check up on me. Feel free to bully me on Twitter.

When you make up your mind, you can do it. My dad chain smoked all the years I was growing up. I don't think I have any childhood memories of him w/o a cig in hand. I tried everything to get him to quit - breaking his cigs, hiding them, verbal harassment, photos of damaged lungs, honest pleading after two of my girlfriends lost their father's to cancer before their 25th birthdays. No effect. Then one day in my 30's, he bought a box of nicotine patches, quit, and never looked back. I think it was having to tell his own father to quit (b/c granddad was on oxygen) and (a) not wanting to be a hypocrite and (b) seeing what the end-stages of a lifetime of smoking looks like. I would never have thought dad would quit, but he did. You can too.

Come on you can do it, surely the pain you suffer when quitting is nothing compared to that in a good sparring session! You're tough, beat it, I know it's hard (been there) because it's yourself you're fighting, not some sorry ass dude in a ring. And remember:

Oh, I know from personal experience how hard this is!! I smoked all through college and grad school and tried to quit SO. MANY. TIMES. I finally quit for good, using Zyban to help, when I started my postdoc (5 years ago). I had to surround myself with non-smokers, and recent non-smoking laws at bars have been a lifesaver. I finally reached a place where cigs aren't tempting, even when having a beer, but it took a while to get there. Best of luck, and I'll be checking up on you with Twitter! I'm sure I can spare some postdoc chump change, or other sufficient bribes, when you make it to Christmas!! :) :)

About Me

I am scientist by training, inclination and temperament. However, this is a blog, not a lab. The title reflects my passion for hyperbole, so don't take me too seriously. I don't. I am PhD trained scientific jack-of-all-trades. I write about science that catches my eye, making the transition away from the lab bench, and the slightly odd and moist boundary where science culture meets the public. I am an Englishman by birth, an American by temperament and if I were you I wouldn't lend me money.